Knit-auguration 

At last the big day is here, the dawning of a new administration for the toys.  Crowds of historic proportions were expected and arrived this morning: extra Lego sheets had to be added to accommodate everyone.  Tiny Knit Zombie Trump and Tiny Knit Hillary are sitting together and enjoying the pre-inauguration entertainment.  The gathering has a festive celebratory air.  Every toy feels like they have representation in this new government.  Every toy feels like their voices were heard.  Every toy is excited about the changes that are coming, and has confidence in their new leaders.  Let’s go to our on the ground reporter, George Snuffleupagus,  for an up close perspective.

Thanks!  Well before we go to the ground, let’s check out the birds-eye-view.  Crowds stretch from the stage all the way back to the Lego Washington Monument.  The future president and vice president took a risk – there is no security – but so far even the toys that showed up with weapons are peacefully gathering.  It’s as if they just want to express their right to bear arms, but not hurt anyone.  Wow!  Look at the size of that sword down there!

The media is here and busy interviewing toys.  Several polite discussions have broken out when toys nearby had a perspective different from the toy being interviewed.  There’s just so much respect and tolerance, even here in the far back where you can barely make out the swooping hair of Tiny Knit Zombie Trump and sunglasses of Tiny Knit Hillary.   Everyone seems so happy to just be part of this day.

Thankfully with the money this team saved on security they were able to install large video screens so the crowd can see from anywhere on the Lego sheets.  This incoming administration really understands how to make investments where they are needed the most.

Sorry George!  Gotta interrupt you.  It looks like the entertainment part of the festivities is over and Tiny Knit Zombie Trump is going to take his oath of office.  Let’s listen in.  Oh, wait.  He doesn’t have a mouth.  Well, he’s looking very vice-presidential as he moans and nods… and there, he’s done.  The crowd’s reaction is deafening.  There is a palpable excitement from the trolls, vikings, mad scientists, and conservatives.  Oh, now it’s Tiny Knit Hillary’s turn.  The crowd has quieted.  Let’s hear what she has to say.  Ah, again no mouth.  Well she holds herself with a very presidential posture as she puts her hand on the toy plastic book she chose for today.  George, do you think the color of the book has any significance?  George… are you there?

Sorry, I can’t seem to get my emotions under control… *sniff*  This is just such a momentous day.  Two parties putting aside their differences for the good of all toys.  I just….I can’t….

Ah, and we’ve lost George due to the roar of the crowd.  Well, let’s leave him with his emotions, and watch as President Tiny Knit Hillary and Vice President Tiny Knit Zombie Trump hug each other, and then address the crowd with inclusive gesticulations.  I can’t imagine what they must be feeling looking over all their constituents. Oh, look, spontaneous hugs are breaking out all over.  Knits are hugging Legos.  Evil doers are hugging kids, but in a good way, not a creepy way.  Such solidarity.

Well there is nothing more to add.  Today is a day of peace, cooperation, and tranquility and our toy nation is a model that other nations can only hope to emulate.  Let’s pan out to enjoy one last look at the crowd on this momentous day.


 

An unexpected, and tinge late, additional post in a series of tiny knit presidential dilemmas.  See the sixth post here, fifth post here, fourth post here, third post here, second post here, and the first post here.

Thank you to Anna Hrachovec for the amazing tiny knit patterns!  Please visit her site at http://mochimochiland.com/.

Travel Day Stories

Today was a travel day.  I love traveling.  I love watching people in airports.  I love the weird interpersonal situations that happen when way too many people are crammed in way too small seats way too close together.  For whatever reason, today was a day of really happy, positive, kinda weird stories.

The Girl Band

One TSA line over is a girl.  She’s wearing a top hat with a huge fake orange flower and a wide fabric band.  She has on shiny maroon Doc Martins, and I marvel at how small her ankles are in those boots.  No one has small ankles in Doc Martins, but she has tiny feet too, so maybe that’s the reason.  She’s a slender girl who looks like a teenager to my aging eyes, so she’s probably twenty-five.  She has close cropped hair, beautiful posture and everything about her is alive.  She has a guitar case slung over her shoulder and a banjo case at her feet.  I wonder how she’s going to get them both on a plane.  Once, I sat next to a man who bought a seat for his guitar, so maybe she’s doing that.

Then I notice her friends.  There are three girls, not just one, and they all have that same alive, short-hair, good posture look.  She isn’t a musician, they are a band, and just the three of them are traveling.  This means they probably are in their twenties, and not the teenagers I originally thought.  The tallest one in the blue coat is comparing her jacket to her friend’s jacket and asking the hatted one, “It’s blue, right?”

The friend says, “It’s not blue.” The hatted one agrees.

Suddenly, the not-blue jacketed one notices me watching their scene and she shouts across at me, “What color is this?”

I am delighted to be included in this group and I shout back, “Not blue.”

She tilts her head, “Not blue?  Then what color is it?”

“Charcoal.” I call back.

“Charcoal!” The hatted one says, and they are back in their own world.  I try to engage them with the start of a question about the color of my own orange-red jacket, but I am forgotten.  For a moment I wish I’d worn my own not-blue jacket.  Maybe we would have talked longer, and I could have asked my own questions.  Where are you going?  How will you get a banjo and a guitar on the plane?  Did you make that hat?  What’s the name of your band.

Alas, they are on to comparing the color of their pants.  Maroon?

Cash on the Plane

“Only credit cards.  Credit cards only.” The flight attendant repeats row after row.  Obediently the passengers put away their bills and hand over plastic.  The routine is interrupted by the man in the middle seat in front of me.  I can see him through the break between the seats, and his long hair and music mixing app on his computer make it obvious he is no traditional airline commuter.  He challenges the flight attendant.

“What if I pay you double the price, can I pay cash?”

The exhausted, overworked, low-budget airline attendant says, “No.  Credit only.”

The music mixer decides to perform.  He raises his voice, “Will anyone, anyone in this airplane pay for my snack, and I will pay you in cash.”

I roll my eyes at his bravado, and am shocked to hear a female voice say, “I will.”

Some lady two rows in front of me offers to pay.  There is a complicated back and forth with her snack mix, her gin and tonic, his craft beer – his word – and then his gin and tonic, in addition to the craft beer.  Snacks are passed out.  Drinks are handed out, handed back, and then handed out again in different formation.  The guy next to the music mixer asks several times, “I’d like a water when you get a chance.”  The music mixer hands his cash to the woman, and it’s too much money.

He insists, “As a thank you for your purchase.”

The attendant moves on, after giving the guy his water, and the water man starts quizzing the music mixer about his work: “Have you ever heard of Glenn Frey?”  The music mixer starts starts his beer – he doesn’t like it, must not be crafty enough – and says that he has never heard of Glenn Frey.  So, the water guy starts talking the lyrics of Hotel California and I wonder if the cash the music mixer gave the lady is real, or if somehow the music mixer is also a counterfeiter.  I also wonder if the music mixer really doesn’t know Glenn Frey or is just too cool to admit that he loves Hotel California.

Airplane Dad

I’m sitting in the terminal waiting to start a conference call.  Nestled back in molded airport chairs under the escalator I hear it before I see it.  The sound of a plane taking off. No, the sound a person makes when sounding like a plane taking off.  Into my vision bursts a paunchy dad with a child bigger than an infant but smaller than a toddler in his arms.  He’s running down the terminal holding his child in the air making airplane noises and they are both laughing and totally unaware that it is inappropriate for grown men to run in an airplane terminal making airplane noises.  Unbeknownst to them, they also make a third person happy, me, who loves inappropriate parental/child joy.

Safety Conscious Beggar

The homeless man mutters at every person who passes in front of him.  It’s snowing and he’s standing underneath the overhang of the building where the pavement is just wet.  He shakes his cup at everyone, and no one give him attention or money.  I hear him when I’ve already passed.

“Be careful.  It’s slick.”

I wish it wasn’t snowing.  I would have given him a dollar, but he’s right, it’s slick, so I don’t stop.